Little Room Who Made Thee?

Daily Prompt: Clean Slate

Explore the room you’re in as if you’re seeing it for the first time. Pretend you know nothing. What do you see? Who is the person who lives there?

You’re kidding, right?  Our room?  From the perspective of a stranger, no less?  But you see, we would never do that to a stranger and hope to ever call them our friend.  I’ll have to enlist the help of Mr. Blake on this one:

Little Room who made thee
Dost thou know who made thee?

What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

Hung their clothing on the door,
Rumpled jeans upon the floor;

What dread hand?   What dread feet
Left white fur upon the seat?

Little Room who made thee,
Dost thou know who made thee?

Little Room I’ll tell thee,
Little Room I’ll tell thee!

When the kids jumped in with fears,
And watered parents with their tears,
Did they smile their work to see?
Did they who worry in the night, make thee?

Messy Bedroom, in the light,
dreadful awful in thy sight,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?


Nothing, Nadda, Nilla

Daily Prompt: Take Two

Run outside. Take a picture of the first thing you see. Run inside. Take a picture of the second thing you see. Write about the connection between these two random objects, people, or scenes.

I took a few liberties with this challenge because, if I hadn’t, you’d have had only one blurry photo and a frivolous lawsuit on your hands.  Specifically, I imagined myself jumping up from my desk, grabbing my phone camera (because it supposedly takes good pictures), running out of the home office (because your instructions said “run”), all the while looking through the camera’s monitor (because that would be more fun), into the hallway, through the door and then “Woah!” THUMPITY-THUMP-click-CRACK-clickity-CLICK down the front steps into a crumpled heap.

After a few seconds of silence, my lungs would decide to come back online (“All systems go!  We’ve got oxygen!”).  I’d roll my head, hands still heroically clutching the camera in front of me for one final shot of the “first thing” I see.   “CLICK.”

I couldn’t tell you what that would be—a pile of leaves on the walkway, a close-up of my broken femur, or a vision of long-dead relatives dressed in brilliant white robes beckoning me.   It didn’t actually happen.  I didn’t let it happen because I knew that, unlike the bouncy frame of my younger form, I wasn’t built like a Volvo or a Saab.

So, instead of running, I walked.  Instead of trying to figure out the first thing I saw (The stoop?  The brick steps?  The sun?  That inconvenient plank in my eye?), I opted for the first coherent thought about what might be captured both inside and outside of my house that would tell a story and be reasonably interesting.  If you want to call “foul!” I understand, but I just couldn’t do it the way you wanted; it was too dangerous.  My family needs me.

Nilla from the insideSo here’s what I came up with:

Meet Nilla, short for vanilla, because she’s light-colored with a little toasting on top–from sunbathing on our deck, no doubt.  We call her Nilla Spice when she releases toxic fumes that come from feeding half-breed Labradors fatty foods.  How long does it take Nilla to discover your daughter has “accidentally” dropped some chicken on the floor?  A Nilla Second.  How close will Nilla get to your face without actually touching it to sniff-out your last whereabouts?  A Nilla-Meter.

Yes, she is beloved in our family, a genuine love sponge.  She sleeps on my son’s bed most nights, enjoys the strangling hugs and impromptu puppeteering of my daughter.   Surprisingly, she is pretty well-mannered and compliant—except when it comes to outside things.  Apparently, there are different rules outside then there are inside; laws of the wild, perhaps, for pound dogs who were once stray dogs who don’t seem to know how lucky they are to have a collar, a tag and one square meal a day.

Nilla from the outsideAnything in her yard is hers, period.  “Sitting ducks,” so to speak.   Toys for her mangling and rough play:  The water hose, the grill cover, several patio chair cushions, a couple balls and something made of blue plastic.  Most of all, she loves escaping the bounds of our back yard and thinks the command “COME!” means “RUN so I can chase you–just for fun!”  She’s really, REALLY bad at coming when you call.  She must be tricked into coming back by pretending you don’t care what she’s up to.

So here are two perspectives: Nilla from the inside.  Nilla from the outside.  Not random and not the first things I saw, admittedly.   Two pictures with a common thread.  Two worlds with different rules.  Two sides of a Nilla wafer–or would it be… a Nilla Wayfarer?